


Upsides and Downsides

by Xavantina



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Graphic Descriptions of Snow Gnats, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xavantina/pseuds/Xavantina
Summary: Reader makes lists when they're bored. Sometimes the results are entertaining.





	Upsides and Downsides

**Author's Note:**

> My first Lemony/Reader smut fic. I'm proud of myself, and I hope you'll be proud of me as well.

Your current apartment is abysmal.

It’s on the third floor of a six-story rental building that caters mostly to the sort of clientele that pays by the hour. The room faces the back, which somehow costs extra, but you need access to the fire escape. Ten steps from landing to landing, exactly 23 seconds from exit of window till your feet hit the ground. 

Three rooms; 1) a tiny bedroom (approximately 100 square feet) with two narrow beds (for appearances sake), and a single closet, 2) an adjoined bathroom (approximately 50 square feet) that’s so disgusting you’re tempted to avoid showering at all, and 3) a combined living space and kitchen (approximately 400 square feet) , where you spend most of your day (approximately half), when you’re not out (approximately 25%) or sleeping (the remaining 25%). The coffeemaker is the most utilized piece of equipment in the place (six to seven pots brewed per day since you moved in), apart from Lemony’s typewriter of course. 

There are three splotches of mold on the ceiling of the living room, the remnant of a recent case of water damage, judging from their color. 

You made a note of all these physical aspects within thirty minutes of your arrival here and filed away the information in your mind under ‘Probably useless information’. The coffeemaker’s usage is under ‘Important information’, because you need to know to avoid running out of grounds in the middle of the night.

This ability of yours to make notes of every aspect of your life isn’t uncommon in VFD circles, although your aptitude for storing the information in your mind rather than resorting to a commonplace book is remarkable.

It’s your ability to categorize information that you’ve been taught to hone since childhood. It’s an extremely useful skill in your line of work, particularly when you’re paired with a partner who is a scatterbrain of epic proportions when unable to make physical notes for more than an hour at a time.

Which is why you’re here, assisting Lemony on his quest to document the perilous journey of the Baudelaire orphans, because you can make sense of his scattered observations as easily as he can write them down once you’ve done so.

He’s doing that right now. Writing. He has been on a bit of a roll today. As in he’s been writing for the last six hours and 35 minutes, with only one bathroom break and two minutes spent staring at the 42 pieces of evidence that have ended up covering the wall this time around.

And you are, for the lack of a better word, _bored_.

You hope people wouldn’t misattribute this boredom to a lack of investment in the cause, but you’re not needed right now, you haven’t been needed all day (apart from making coffee and shopping for your meagre dinner), and your overactive mind suffers from the lack of input.

Your tutors always said that intelligent people are never bored, but in your humble opinion that is bullshit. 

Then again... there is something you could be doing, utilizing your skills in some small way, for your own amusement’s sake. Making some lists. Obviously they won’t be useful to anybody else, but you can allow yourself some silliness.

Something easy then. You allow your gaze to sweep across your surroundings, searching for inspiration. Eventually it lands on Lemony, the only interesting thing in the room. You like watching him work, generally, but it can get too much. You focus on his hands for a while, those long, strong fingers tapping away on the typewriter’s worn keys. You’ve always liked his hands. They’re very... nimble. Definitely an upside to being involved in a sexual relationship with him.

And just like that, you have your subject. ‘Upsides and Downsides to Being in a Relationship with Lemony Snicket’. With a satisfied smile you lean back on the ratty couch you’ve occupied for the last hour and mentally draw up the two columns. 

You decide to start with some positives, but where to start? His looks? He’s extremely attractive in your (expert) opinion, that’s for sure. As a matter of fact, just looking at him closely as you are right now is enough to threaten your focus on the task at hand. He has gorgeous eyes, although his propensity for squinting makes it hard to tell sometimes. He gets a little furrow between his brows when he’s focusing on his writing, one of the little things you find weirdly appealing. His lips are unremarkable to look at, but they’re very soft. He worries the bottom one between his teeth when he’s nervous or fretting. Those hands... you mentally shake yourself and move on, gaze flittering across his shoulders and down his torso. So very broad considering his occupation. You’ve wondered about that in the past, but never got around to asking if there’s a reason he’s built like that. It can’t all be down to running from his enemies and, say, jumping onto moving trains, although that certainly can’t hurt.

Since he’s sitting at the desk they’ve put in the middle of the room, you can’t see below his waist, although your mind has no problem conjuring up his muscular thighs for your pleasure. Yes, you like those. Definitely one for the ‘Upsides’ pile.

It’s not all superficial either. You genuinely like him. You find him charming in his own way, you share his particular brand of dark and absurd humor, and you can spend all night talking about nothing and everything without ever growing bored. It seems like this should probably be on top of the Upsides column, so you shuffle the points around.

For fairness sake you should add to the Downsides at some point, shouldn’t you? Well one thing springs to mind: he gets distracted when he’s working, and God knows he’s almost always working. He forgets to eat and gets grumpy as a result. He focuses on writing more than his own safety, and by extension yours, so it’s always a close call when you have to escape from your constant pursuers. That should probably be its own point on the list: being hounded at every step by his faceless adversaries and having to move every other week to avoid capture. Pretty big drawback if you’re of a nervous disposition, which is a weakness you are loath to admit, but it’s true nonetheless. 

And even though observing him and all his little idiosyncrasies is a favorite pastime of yours, simply watching him work gets old after a while. Hence your current situation.

What else? Well to be totally honest, he does spend a lot of time talking about his ex, especially considering the fact that he’s currently involved with you. You’ve come to accept this, that he will never truly move on from her, just as you’ve accepted that he will always find room in a closet for the 200-page breakup letter she sent him. But having the physical evidence of their doomed relationship following you around wherever you go is slightly... disconcerting at times.

It’s not that he doesn’t love you too, you’re sure of it. Just not as much as he loves her, or even just the memory of her. It was hard in the beginning to come to terms with this, you’re not going to deny that, but it’s a fact you can’t change. No reason to linger on things you can’t change, you always tell yourself, and Lemony too, whenever he gets caught up in his bouts of melancholy.

That’s another one for the Downsides pile; an extremely melancholy disposition. On a regular day it’s manageable. When he’s under pressure, or even worse, drunk? Uncontrollable. And he’s a weepy drunk. If you’re lucky there is a brief period of joviality, but this inevitably turns to teary ramblings about what a terrible person he is, interspersed with heartfelt confessions of affection that would be more welcome if they weren’t delivered through bouts of heaving sobs. He’s not a pretty crier either- although most of the time you can’t tell, because he’s a clingy drunk as well, and can easily spend an hour with his face pressed into your shoulder as he weeps. The physicality is one for the Positives pile on most days though. Even when caught up in his miserable moods, he is incredibly receptive to physical affection.

An Upside then; a small thing, but you like petting his hair. It’s very soft, very thick, and simply running your fingers through it is enough to calm him somewhat even when he is at his worst. 

Oh, and he likes it when you pull it. He makes the most delicious noise deep in his chest, part pleasure, part pain. Just thinking about it makes your fingers itch to grab a hold of it and _tug_.

You’ve dodged the subject long enough, one of the undeniable Upsides; he’s great in the sack. There’s no other way of putting it, the man knows what he is doing, he is a considerate and generous lover who always puts your pleasure before his own, unless you specially tell him otherwise. He likes it when you tell him what to do and you just happen to enjoy ordering him around. Oh yes, you like that very much. He likes it when you talk to him during sex, even if he has trouble reciprocating just yet, beyond stuttering definitions, no doubt his way of grounding himself in response to your barrage of normally incessant verbal input. You’re working on that, because, well. His _voice_.

You realize that you’ve made a huge mistake in your list and immediately shuffle things around again. That voice deserves a top three spot at least.

You get a sudden urge to hear it, even stronger than your previous urge to touch, and you think you’ve earned it, having worked so hard making lists and giving him space to work. 

“Lemony?” you ask.

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even look up from his typewriter. 

“Lemony,” you says, firmer. No results. 

That leaves you with no other option than to raise your voice in authoritative bark; “ _Lemony._ ”

The ceaseless tapping stops immediately and his eyes fly up to meet yours, shocked rather than annoyed. 

You shouldn’t be saying his name so loudly, the walls might very well have ears, but what can you say? You lose patience when you’re getting horny.

“What is it?” he asks, brows drawing together in worry. There’s that little furrow you like so much. You can’t help but smile at the sight, although it doesn’t make Lemony less tense. He looks just about ready to bolt.

“I want you to speak to me,” you say in a level voice.

He relaxes somewhat now that he knows you’re not in danger, although the frown remains in place. “I’m afraid you are going to be more specific?”  
“Fine. I’ll let you off easy this time; just... talk. I want to hear the sound of your voice.” In case you aren’t been abundantly clear of your true intentions, you let your legs fall open a little.

Lemony is a smart man, and he figures out what you’re actually after in a split second, based on your tone of voice and body language, his eyes darkening and cheeks growing flushed. “Any particular subjects you’re interested in?”

“Tell me about Snow Gnats.”

Lemony raises an eyebrow. “All right… Snow Gnats are small flying insects which inhabit the Mortmain Mountains. The distinguishing feature of snow gnats is they enjoy stinging people for no reason whatsoever, similar to red ants. The gnats' stingers contain mild poison which may kill, with a couple of stings, a small animal.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, sliding one of your hands down your chest in direction of your crotch, silently marvelling at the fact that Lemony can talk about something as inane as the Mortmain Mountains wildlife, and it still turns you on.

Lemony clears his throat and continues with a slightly shaky voice, “There are two primary ways to avoid being stung: The easiest way is to create smoke by starting a fire. Snow gnats do not like smoke and will flee an area that has or recently has had smoke.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree, closing your eyes as your hand slips under the waistband of your pants. “Keep going.”

“The other way is by covering the body with clothing,” Lemony says, voice growing lower. “A fencing mask, for example, will impede the gnats while still allowing the wearer to see… Are you sure you want to hear all this?” he asks.

You open your eyes and fix him with a meaningful look. “Rambling off facts is easier for you than talking dirty,” you tell him honestly. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Lemony’s cheeks are bright red by now, his gaze focused on your hand. “I could try.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips and you pull your hand out of your pants, only to pop the button and shove them down far enough for you to be able to get your hand in your panties with no problems. You rest your fingers on your clit, just touching for now. “Go ahead.”

Lemony swallows. “I like seeing you like this. Touching yourself. It makes me want to touch you as well, when you want me to.” He pauses. “I wish I was on my knees in front of you right now – I’d pull your pants down and eat you out. I’d be better than your hand.”

You chuckle at the promise, “Oh, would you now? My hand is quite proficient at getting me off, darling,” you say, rubbing your clit to prove your point.

“Let me try,” Lemony all but begs, voice raw.

You couldn’t possibly deny him when he asks like that, so you pull your hand up again, licking your fingers just to hear him inhale sharply, before resting your hands on the couch on either side of you. “All right.”

Lemony is out of his seat in an instant, crossing the short distance between the desk and the couch in three long strides, immediately sinking to his knees once he reaches you, hands on your waistband. He pauses, looking you in the eye. He always does that, makes sure that you’re on board before crossing any boundaries, and it’s damn near adorable. You give him a firm nod, and he pulls your pants and panties down in one move, all the way off, and throws them to the side. He grabs one of your ankles in his large hand and pulls it up until he can kiss the inside of your lower shin, then continues to plant a series of frustratingly slow kisses up along the length of your leg. By the time he reaches your inner thigh you’re squirming, and he’s smiling to himself. He turns his eyes to yours as he reaches your sex, checking in once again, waiting for another nod before he leans forward and drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit in one firm swipe.

You sigh happily and resist the urge to throw your head back, because you know he’ll be looking at your face all the while he’s doing this, and you want to watch him watching you as he pleasures you. Complicated sentence for the current situation, but they always said you were a smart one.

Lemony closes his lips around your clit and _sucks_ , and your let out an involuntary yelp, legs slamming shut on their own accord, trapping his head between your thighs. Lemony only moans, the vibrations against your clit an exquisite feeling, and you find yourself crossing your ankles behind his back, pulling him even closer. Your hand reaches out for his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft locks. Lemony doesn’t make a single sound of protest at either reaction, instead his keeps licking at you with broad swiped of his tongue, eyes fixed on yours as he pleasures you.

He’s so damn good at this. Another one for the Upsides column, but you’re too distracted to decide where is figures. Probably in a subcategory to the ‘Great in Bed’ note. It seems logical.

Lemony has started focusing on your clit only, sooner than he usually would, but you’re not complaining. He breaks eye contact with you, eyes closing, and you finally let your head drop back against the back of the couch cushion, fingers tightening in his hair. Your orgasm in approaching fast, and you don’t want to delay it tonight. Lemony seems keen on getting you there as fast as possible as well, sucking your clit between his lips as all your muscles start tensing up, your hips thrusting out towards him.

Your orgasm still catches you by surprise, hitting you like a train carrying villains and associates alike, making you cry out and pull Lemony’s hair harder than you normally would have, but he doesn’t stop licking you, letting you ride your orgasm out against his tongue. He slows down the movements of his tongue perfectly timed with you growing over-sensitive, pulling away from you when you relax the muscles of your thighs and let him.

“Better than you hand?” he asks, smirking.

You lift your head and glance at him blearily. “You’ve got potential.”

Lemony laughs, a genuine laugh that makes him look ten years younger, his whole body shaking along with it. You find yourself laughing as well, finally releasing his hair and petting his head instead.

You eventually wind down in synch. You trail into a chuckle first, your lips curling into a smirk. “What would you like now, Snicket?”

Lemony grows silent, eyes darkening. “I ‘d like to fuck you, if you’ll let me.”

“Where?” you ask.

“On the desk,” he replies.

You raise an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

You get the feeling that if his face wasn’t flushed red already he would be blushing. “Please.”

You can’t stop yourself from smirking. “Get me over there.”

His hands are on your hips in an instant, grapping a hold of your and lifting you up like you weighed nothing more than a feather. You let out a squeak of delight, your arms flying up the wrap around his neck as he carries you to the desk. He holds you against his chest with one arm, pushing piles of notes and his typewriter to the side with the other, before setting you down on the edge. You reach for his belt at the same time as him, and you both snicker as you struggle to get it loose together, mostly just getting in each other’s way until he bats your hands away and does the job himself, making a quick job of it, and then unbuttoning his pants, pulling down the zipper, and shoving them down off his hips without a pause.

You have to bite back a moan when he loses his underwear and his cock springs free, bobbing in the air. You find yourself unable to wait a second longer, needing him inside your this very instant. You express this desire by lying back on the desk and spreading your legs as far as you can spread them, making yourself the most inviting sight he must have seen in a long time. Judging by his stifled moan you succeed in making your intentions clear, and he steps up to you, grabbing his cock and guiding it inside you in one smooth movement.

The feeling of being completely full at last is enough to make your vision darken at the edges, and you allow yourself to let go of that moan now, your voice hitching when Lemony pulls back and then thrusts back into you with sharp snap of his hips, his hands grabbing your waist to keep you steady. You’re still perfectly aware that you should be staying as silent as possible, but he feels so good inside you, and you want him to know just how much you’re enjoying yourself. You always were a very vocal one.

Sometimes Lemony will shush you or even cover your mouth with his hand (something you not-so-secretly enjoy immensely), but tonight he only leans down and kisses you in an attempt to muffle the sounds you’re making, or maybe just because he wants to do it. You try your best to focus on the slide of his lips against yours, but the lingering taste of you is still clinging to them and it’s not helping. And Lemony is losing his focus as well, breathing growing ragged against your mouth as the movement of his hips turns increasingly frantic. You know he’s getting close, your assessment confirmed when one of his hands slides down your stomach, past your pubic bone, and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it with practised firmness, even though you’re soaking wet at this point.

It becomes a race towards your respective orgasms, but you beat him to it, your back arching as you find yourself coming once more, biting Lemony’s lip to keep silent. An edge of pain always did it for him, and he comes just after you, hips snapping forward sharply half a dozen times as he spills inside you.  
You wind down together, your breaths evening out in tandem, Lemony kissing you lazily. When he eventually pulls out of you, you can’t keep from groaning at the loss. Lemony exhales in a small chuckle, telling you, “You’re insatiable – a word that here means impossible to please.” 

“I would apologize if it weren’t for the fact that I know you fucking like it, Snicket,” you fire back.

Lemony snorts, his right hand stroking your hip while his left finds its way to your face, cupping your jaw. “Touché.”

He kisses you again, fingers cradling your face, and you allow yourself to get completely lost in it. By the time you both start getting lazy, Lemony suddenly lifts you off the desk, ignoring your cry of surprise, and carries you into the bedroom. He lowers you down onto the objectively terrible bed and quickly joins you, covering your body and making you care infinitely less about the appalling thread count of the sheets and hardness of the mattress. Eventually he flops down next to you, kisses moving to your neck and eventually trailing off, until his breathing is evening out against your throat as he falls asleep, arm slung across your chest.

You smile in the darkness of the room. Upsides: unrepentant cuddler.

Downsides: … you’ve forgotten.


End file.
